Wind and Truth (The Stormlight Archive, #5)

by Brandon Sanderson

“I support,” he found himself saying, “whatever decision you make.”

“She made the stone flow like water,” Kaladin said. Water flows like water all the time, and it’s super stupid. Have you tried talking to it?

“That’s an Honorblade,” Kaladin said. “It grants the bearer the Surges of a Stoneward—Radiant abilities, unbound by oaths…” I could learn that, the sword said. I’m super good at being a sword. Besides, what’s more interesting than making stone act like water? Destroying it. That’s what.

“This is what it’s about, Szeth,” Kaladin said. “It?” “What we do,” Kaladin said. “Being a watcher at the rim? This is why. My father never understood, and I suspect your people never did either. You can. This is what we fight for. Those looks. Those tears. That joy. Our duty has a cost, as you said—we are both proof of that. But if there’s a difference between us, it’s this: I know the why.”

“Do you have any idea the power of compound interest?” she said. “The system breaks entirely when you can wait it out for a hundred years.”

surrounds you, but you cannot persuade it. Honor’s power is stubborn.

a person was always so much more than any image could contain.

“Murder?” Pattern said, placing another soldier. He’d built a surprisingly tall pyramid. “Oh, you mean murder! Shallan is good at murder. Yes, mmmmm…” “Pattern,” she said, “please don’t say it that way.” “She is good,” Pattern corrected himself, “at making people who were once alive and threatening, unalive and unthreatening. Mmmm. Very good at it.”

“She thinks of you,” Pattern continued, laying his hand on Testament’s. “And the way you were back then.” “Pain,” Testament whispered. “In pain,” Pattern said. “A child should live happily. Every child. You did not.”

“It says,” Szeth whispered, “‘I will not bow to him.’” He lowered his head in respect for Sivi. This was what honor looked like sometimes: a withered husk dead on the floor.

“No,” Szeth’s father said. “I will not visit. If you are taking my son, then I will go with him. I will learn to subtract as well.”

“This is insanity,” the Farmer said. “No,” Father replied. “We are a family. My son will not step into the darkness alone. If you need me to break something to prove I am willing, point me toward the other two soldiers who robbed me, then left my son in the hands of a drunken monster.”

When you had an abusive father and an insane mother, you learned to act.

She shouldn’t have had to go through such a terrible, painful childhood—but since she had, she might as well storming weaponize it.

Tell me, are you better because of one good day? Will you ever be fully ‘better’?”

“You are what you were made into, Shallan. You are what was done to you. That is me. I am your future.”

“It will never accept you.” “Why not?” Dalinar asked. “Because it cannot stand another who would do what Honor did.”

“Stormfather? What lies have you been telling me!” Only the ones, the Stormfather said in his mind, that you deserve.

“I hope,” Adolin said, settling himself at the table, “you don’t lose too much of your weekly wages at cards.” “Lose?” the man said from behind. “Not sure I know that word, foreigner. Must be an Alethi thing.”

“I’m fine,” he promised. “Just thinking. When I needed him, Wit was always there. But he told me I would have to make my own story this time.” He shrugged. “When the darkness consumed me, he pulled me free. So maybe I can listen to him today.”

Storms, but that man knew how to backhand a compliment.

“Exactly. What about you? Are you a thing, Kaladin, or a person? Do you move merely because your instincts tell you, or do you choose to help?”

“How do I find what I need if the world is constantly in crisis?”

But he “totally had it handled” and “no one should worry at all.” Which was, of course, worrying.

If he could be doing anything at that moment, what would it be? What would make him happy? He let himself answer truthfully. He wanted to go dancing with Syl.

I will enjoy this. I will let myself enjoy living.

I remember this, Kaladin thought. From my childhood. I remember moving, and the Wind joining me. I remember … peace and freedom.

In that—at the edge of the world and the advent of the end of all things—Kaladin Stormblessed allowed himself to be happy. For what felt like the first time since Tien’s death.

He wanted this. He wanted it because this was a challenge, something to learn, something different. Stuffy, grumpy Kaladin. He didn’t have time for music or love or life. That was the story. The story he’d been telling himself for so long.

Tonight, he wrote a different story for himself. Of a man who loved music. Of a man who had time for music.

He learned a new language that night, full of new adjectives for who Kaladin was, and who he could be.

He looked at Syl, whose smile was made of light, and he grinned. He let himself grin. Happiness was a part of what defined Kaladin.

“Too many people,” Adolin said as his armorers began to put on his Plate, “think the oath, and not what it means, is the important part.

“A spoon?” Szeth shouted. “The best you could find was a spoon?” “You’re inventive!” the spren called back. “I figured you could find something to do with it!” Yes, Szeth did find something to do with the spoon. He threw it at the spren, hitting him square in the forehead.

What’s Shadesmar? Oh! Is that person in front of us evil? Are you really going to use me to fight? Yay!

“When you’re living an illusion, spren-nimi, be very careful not to do anything to spoil it. Because once you do, it is exceedingly difficult to recapture your audience.”

“Shallan,” Pattern whispered, “what did Wit say?” “I know…” “Repeat it.” “I don’t deserve it,” she whispered. “What was done to me is not my fault. It’s all right to accept that I have pain, but I shouldn’t accept that I deserve it.” “I’m sorry that you have to live with it anyway.”

“I am very good at this,” Pattern said. “Mmmm. That might be a lie, but I don’t care!”

“Noura, I’ve lived that life, worrying which of my friends are only there because they want something from me. That loneliness can destroy a person, and I’m grateful for those I was able to trust. Yanagawn needs someone he can talk to who isn’t in his chain of command, or whatever you call it for someone like him. He needs someone who isn’t related to him, in charge of him, or serving him.”

“He’s stronger than you think.” “Storm it, Noura, it’s not about strength.”

Do you realize how long it’s been since we had a Prime who truly understood the needs of the common people? We can’t lose him.” “Then listen,” Adolin whispered. “If you keep him isolated, without friends, that will break him, Noura.”

Give Yanagawn a little freedom, Noura, and he’ll soar. Hold him down, and he’ll start looking for exits lower to the ground.”

Hands strapped him down in the darkness. They shoved a cloth into his mouth to muffle screams, and then, what happened next … They took mallets and pounded spikes of light through his skull.

“What have you done to me?” Moash whispered. “You,” Odium said, “have become a very specific kind of weapon. Are you ready to serve again? To forge a better world?”

Dearest Cephandrius, Your rebuttal is eloquent, as always, but did you think I would be moved?

These were the true soul of the listeners. They had looked power in the eyes and had rejected it.

No carapace was so thick it couldn’t crack.

“Yes, but anger won’t change anything.” Damnation. She was right.

“In leaving,” Jezrien said, “you take with you every hint of common sense left to the singer nation. There will be war.” “There’s already war, my friend,”

“She will make the right choice,” Jaxlim said to Resolve. “How do you know?” Thude asked. “Because it’s her choice to make,” Venli said, grasping what her mother meant. “And so her choice is the right one. We will respect it.”